lA 



i^LiBRARY OF Congress.^" 

^ ^ 

^ == ■^' 






SHELF- 



i^mUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.^ 

!^.^E 9—167 ^ 




/- f 



THE LATEE 



POEMS A.\D mij^ 



OF 



/ 

JAMES LTXEX 



\\i:iiiK.\ jJL/whLW nil. ) lm:s isnr, AM) is:^j. 



Aii«i y. .Mid thai I iiiakf rmrlli 

All I 



New York: 
AV. J . W 1 I) ]) L E T () X, V V H L I S II K I? 

SAN FHAXCISCO : 

A . R O M A N & C O M P A X Y . 
1873. 






24392 



Entered, according to Act of Congi-ess, in the year 1873, by 

JAMES LINEN, 

In the OflSce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C. 




JOHN KOS? & CO., PEINTErS, '27 TOSE STREET, NEW YORK. 



TO 

'aMUUiixn (Cullcn Brsant, Hsqi- 

During the long period of nearly forty years, I have received from you many kind 
favors of a social and literan/ character. Yau smiled approvingly on my earliest 
poetic efforts. Having the same venei-ation for your exalted worth as a man, with an 
undiminished admiration for your ability as a pioet, as I entertained when a youth, 
to whom could I inscribe this j)roduction with so much grateful propriety as to your- 
self? 3fy larger volumes were dedicated to you, and, irith your permiasion, I lay 
down respectfully at the shrine of your genius this little offering of my humble Muse. 

Cordially your friend, 

JAMES LINEN. 



PREFACE 



HTHE [)it\>eiit vuhuiie require.- ny .ipology for its ])iil)- 
lication. Some of tlie poems and songs have been 
popular and drifting about, and appearing occasionally 
without even the autlior's name. Having sufficient 
material on hand, I concluded to ])ubli^^h them under 
my own supervision. Eight years ago, I gave to the 
world my miscellaneous writings in prose and verse, 
which were well received at the time. I have since 
published ^^T!m' O-.LLm. O.. to- Avlfl. ;nn.fr..tl-.T,. ..nj lu<. 

torical notes. 

Some of the lyrics have been so popular that they 
have been set to music both at home and abroad. Such 
compositions will be found in the pages of this volume, 
arranged side by side, with similar effusions of a later 
date. I hope it will please my friends to see them pub- 
lished unifonnly and together. 

My Muse feels none of the intirmities peculiar to old 
age. She is still vigorous, and in the full enjoyment 
of mental health. However, she prefers repose to the 



6 PREFACE, 

labor of toiling for an empty name. For many years, 
she has been kindly fostered by a generons Press. Hence- 
forth she will seek the social sweets of retirement. Her 
task is done, and her ambition has been abundantly gra- 
tiiied. The companion and sweet solace of my life now 
bows herself graciously out of the Republic of Letters. 

:N^ew York, July 4, 187?. 



CONTENTS. 



POEMS. 

PAGE 

The PoeiV :>ii>M..ii 9 

The Bunch of Heather Bells. . . 12 

Conscience . . 14 

Virtue .. IT 

Time .. 2() 

Decay 2;} 

Bygane Days 2«) 

(Jreenwood 29 

Sir Walter Scott's Monument in Central Park .31 

The Sparrows :U 

My Beloved Son. Written for a Bcnas oil Muth.-r 30 

Lines to an Old Tooth. . . .3S 

The Centenarian . . 41 

To My Daughter Josephine. U] 

Nil Desperandum .1.") 

An Enigma 47 

Slaves of Fashion . . 48 

Maggie Mitchell, an Old Friend .. 49 

Love and Hevenge 51 

Miles Standish ..51 

Destiny 52 

Common Sense 55 

The Wonderfu' Callant . 58 

John Center, the Prince of California Squaltcr< (iO 

The Happy Pair <;2 

Jamie McGinn, the Comical Undertaker VA 

Lines Written on the Night Before I Left California f)5 

Lines Written on the Morning of my Leaving California 05 

Affinity and Divinity 05 



SONGS. 

I feel I'm Growing Auld, Gude-Wife .. 09 

Tak' Back the King, Dear Jamie :i 

The Snaw Lies Deep on Hill and Plain V-i 



CO N I EN 2 S. 



PAGE 

Kate o' Glenrowan 75 

jMy Mary 77 

Clara : 78 

Annie Lee 79 

Little Nelly Gordon 82 

My Bonnie Wee Lizzie 88 

My Sweet Little Hinnie 85 

The Valley of Wyoming 87 

First Love 89 

Mary Ann, of Hamilton, Ontario 91 

Lucy Lee 92 

Have You Felt at Your Heart '? 98 

I Love to Dream o' Thee, Mary 95 

Lowland Mary 97 

How the Heart to the Past wi' Rapture Clings 98 

Jessie Paterson 1 00 

Oh ! My Fair. My Darling Maggie 102 

Bonnie Fanny Dean .' 108 

EPITAPHS AND EPKIRAMS. 

Sandy Mien 105 

On the Tombstone of a Knave 105 

An Honest Man 106 

Ellis the Baker 106 

The Drunkard and Cheat 106 

The Hypocrite 107 

Lying Tommy 107 

Dram-Drinking John 107 

On the Death of a Friend 108 

On the Death of Robert Gowanlock 108 

Epigram lOS 

Elder Knapp, the Sensational Preacher 109 

The Ruling Passion 109 

David Mitchell 110 

Willy, the Antiquarian Oddity 110 

Epigram Ill 



POEMS. 



The poET's ^Lission. 



"HEXEATII the poet's Avandering feet fair Howers for ever 

spring, 
^Vnd o'er the poet's tlioiightful head sweet birds for ever sing : 
lie tunes his harp to stirring strains, in all things beauty sees. 
And music weird and wild lie hears in every wliistling breeze. 

Though wrestling with his passions strong, Iiis thoughts soar 

upward still 
To spheres beyond all human ken, where fancy roams at wilt: 
His keen eye scans creation o'er, and finds a jieaceful home 

Tn cvcrv sf;)r Ibjii Lditfcjv biMo'lit in V(»nd<'r vjinnbire dome. 

With llowers he decks the arid waste, and drinks from desert 

springs, 
And o'er the face of nature rude a robe of beauty flings ; ' 
He Avorships on the mountain-tops, and, kneeling on the sod, 
AVith hands upraised, all prophet-like, he communes with his 

(iod. 



10 THE POET'S MISSION. 

He frowns on kings and hireling tools wlio smile at gnilty 

Wrong ; 
He holds np high to public scorn proud knaves in deathless 

song; 
And while he pleads in earnest tones for honors to the 

hraye^ 
His burning words strong fetters melt that bind the bleeding 

slave. 

Dark clouds^ with living lightning charged, across the sky 

may roll, 
And thunders shake with trembling fears the world from 

Pole to Pole ; 
But he who thrills the human heart, the gifted son of Time, 
Stands forth amid the tempest wild, and paints the scene 

sublime. 

Prom Truth the jDoet never swerves, and firm by Freedom 

stands. 
And scorns the shield of tyrant flags in dark, down-trodden 

lands ; 
But while he humbly worships God, and bows to laws divine. 
He tears the mask from canting priests who kneel at Error's 

shrine. 

While Eeason stands in boundless wastes, bcAvildered, lost, 

and dumb, 
Swift to the bard's conceptive mind bright visions trooping 

come : 



TUE POET'S MISSION. 11 

He wanders tlirougli the orbs of sj^ace^ soes worlds on worlds 

arise, 
Where dimly Faith in silence points to realms that Doubt 

denies. 

His kingdom is the human heart, in which he rears his 

throne ; 
His sul)jects are the passions Avild tliat due allegiance own. 
Xo monarch that holds regal sway, and wears a jewelled 

crown, 
Can ever crush the poet'5 rule, or drag his empire down. 



1^' THE BUXCII OF UEATTIER PELLS. 



The Bunch of Heather Bells. 



A S on thy stem a tliousand bells 

In fragrant beauty liing^ 
>So, round my auld time- withered heart 

Sweet recollections cling. 
Thy bells to me have tuneful tongues 

That ring auld Scotia's praise^ 
And hallow'd thochts come rushing back 
To scenes o' bygane days. 

Ere thorns o^ care gTCw in my heart, 

I lap ower mossy dykes, 
AYhaur heather linties sing their sang^. 

And bumboes build their bykes. 
I've wandered ower the weary waste. 

And seen it wrapt in snaw. 
Heard lammies bleat on purple moors 

Whaur scented breezes blaw. 

bonnie bunch o' blooming bells I 
My heart wi' rapture thrills, 

AVhile thus I hail thee as a friend 
Fresh frae mv native hills. 



THE BUNCH OF HEATHER BELLS. 13 

Thon'rt red and strong wi' moorland liealtli. 

And, when compared wi' tliee, 
Tlie painted flowers o' tropic lands 

Are sickly tilings to me. 

golden days o' jovons youtli I 

AVliat transports sweet are mine, 
When mem'ry tliro' the mists o' yeai^s 

Glints back on auld langsyne. 
Oh ! for ae blink o' Scotia's glens. 

Her monntains wild and bare I 
l)ound by the ties time canna break, 

^[y heart still lingei^ there. 



1-1: CONSCIENCE, 



po 



N S C I E N C E , 



" "WTiatever creed be taught, or land be trod, 
Man's conscience is the oracle of God/' 

Byron. 

rpELL me, Conscience ! what tliou art. 

That fires the brain, and wrings the heart 
That haunts the gnilty mind with fears, 
And fills the eyes with bitter tears ; 
That keeps the memory on the rack, 
By bringing recollections back ; 
That plays wdth feelings at thy wdll, 
And tortures with consummate skill ; 
Whose task it is, by smile or frown. 
To lift man up, or drag him down ; 
Whose stings are keener far than steel 
Which felons in dark dungeons feel. 
The prince may golden favors shower, 
Yet he is subject to thy powder ; 
The priest may preach some creed of gloom. 
And sing of bliss beyond the tomb ; 
But thou canst read his thought profound. 
Lone Sentinel of sacred ground I 



CONSCIENCE. !'"> 

Tlie hero honor's path may treacly 

And his great name world-wide be s^iread ; 

But glory brings not peace of mind — 

That jewel rare^ so hard to find. 

From thy dominion none can flee, 

For mortals all must bow to thee ! 

Tell me, Conscience I what thou art, 

AVeird watchman of tlie human heart I 

Art thou ihe cliild of wretched Care, 
That murders Sleej^, and mocks Desjiair ; 
'I'hat fills with pangs the human breast. 
And robs the guilty head of rest ; 
That mutely weeps o'er crimes untold, 
AVliere Vice buys Virtue with its gold ; 
AVhose records by some mystic hand 
Are written in a fadeless land ? 
Tell me, Conscience ! what thou art, 
AVeird watchman of the human lieart I 

Tlie soul, tliat claims celestial birth. 

Finds naught but tainted joys on earth ; 

Imprisoned in a cell of clay 

That yields to laws of swift decay — 

Too pure for such a horrid hell, 

AVhere shapeless fiends in anguish dwell — 

The spirit-tenant of the lieart 

Is ever yearning to depart ; 

Like some caged warbler, to be free. 

That it may soar, God, to thee I 



1 (> CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience ! mnte^ mysterious guest I 

Man fain would pluck thee from his breast. 

As if thou wert his deadly foe. 

The only cause of human woe ; 

Could he but snatch thy golden crown. 

And madly pull thy temple down, 

Dark Vice would rear her bloody shrines 

Where perish hopes, and Virtue pines ; 

Strike but the brave heart-monarch dumh. 

And earth a desert would become. 

When man can feel a conscience clear, 
What wrongs and dangers need he fear ? 
Calmly at his departing breath 
It takes away the stings from deatli ; 
It nobly braves the coward world. 
Till Season from her throne be hurled : 
With all the feelings of the heart 
It gently plays a leading part. 
In concert acting with the soul 
When passions wild brook no control ; 
Close by life's purple fountain found, 
It guards the spot as holy ground. 
Tell me, Conscience ! what thou art. 
Weird Avatchman of the human heart I 



VmiVE. IT 



y 



1 R T U E . 



A WOMAX : Avliat a Avretcli tlioii art, 
^ If virtue reigns not in tliy heart I 
15y some kind Providence designed 
To comfort and to bless mankind ; 
Like some sweet angel from above, 
To clieer the fireside with thy love. 
And make thy home a home of peace. 
AVliere joys connubial never cease ; 
AVhere looks and honeyed words are kind. 
And tender ties affections bind — 
AVho dare invade sucli hallowed ground. 
Where no dark passions lurk around ? 

Oft beauty Virtue's claims neglect, 
AVho courts not, but commands resi)ect ; 
Cased in an armor that's divine, 
She, sleepless, guards her sacred slirine. 
.Vnd shuns the gilded halls of vice. 
Where bastard virtue hath its price : 
Despising Mammon's j)urse-proud slaves. 
She spurns the proffered gold of knaves : 



18 VIBTUE. 

Her heart from all deceit is free^ 
And looks for strength^ God^ to thee ! 
She may be j)oor^ but still her name 
Untarnished is by deeds of shame ; 
She may be clothed in rags and need^ 
In touching tones with pity plead; 
Yet^ conscious that she's pure and just, 
She keeps secure her priceless trust. 

While others quaff libations up, 
She spurns the dangers of the cup, 
And proudly, with imperious frown. 
She casts the tempting goblet down ; 
Her sober reason, strong and pure, 
Knows reeling thrones are insecure. 
So, sparkling wine may fire the brain, 
And lead to years of bitter pain. 
The scornful flashing of her eye 
All crafty snares of art defy ; 
From her one keen, indignant glance 
Forbids a yillain to adyance ; 
Confused, he seeks a swift retreat. 
Or kneels a craven at her feet ; 
She towers aboye all yice and shame. 
And glories in her stainless name. 

When Honor comes with motiye pure. 
The welcome is made sweetly sure ; 



VIRTUE, V,) 



Her modest and lier simple air^ 
And blushes on lier clieeks so fair ; 
The music of her guileless tongue^, 
That never worth and merit stung ; 
The curtains that so mildly rise, 
And graceful hang o'er wistful eyes 
The gentle heaying of the breast, 
"Where all the jDassions calmly rest, 
Present a bride so true and warm 
That shafts of envy fail to harm ; 
Her loving heart, when fairly won. 
The brightest jewel ^neatli tlie sun. 
Confiding in her chosen si^ouse. 
Keeps sacred all her bridal vows. 



TIME, 



T 



I M E 



npHROUGH mists that liaiig over the Past, 

Ko mortal his story can trace ; 
lie sits on a mystical throne, 
The first and the last of his race. 

Xo jewels shine bright on his crown, 
And mutely he reigns as of old ; 

His archives by angels are kept, 
Which no human eye can behold. 

AVhen Earth was a planet of fire, 
In wonder he rode on the storm, 

And gazed at the red, flaming ball, 
Ere matter was moulded to form. 

Amid the dread deluge of fire. 
He saw the huge mountains arise, 

Until their bleak summits were lost 

In the white-rolling clouds of the skies. 



TIME. 21 

When Xatiire was writhing in pain, 

And struggling as if to be free, 
lie saw roaring billows shrink back, 

And islands leap out of the sea. 

When flames their wild fury liad spent. 
And left bare tlie crust of the globe, 

lie saw smiling Xaturc look glad, 
And graced with an emerald robe. 

From chaos he saw beauty spring, 
And order march forth in its train ; 

lUit to find out the date of liis birth, 
Man's efforts arc futile and vain. 

The keen eye of man fails to pierce 
The jiall and tlie blackness of night. 

And Science gets 'wildered and lost 
In search of the truth-guiding light. 

The Scholar may boast of his lore. 
The Sophist and wrangler may rave ; 

]^ut rocks and volcanoes are dumb. 
And fossils are mute as the grave. 

Old Time has seen symbols, and creeds. 

And races of men swept away; 
While the earth was smoking with blood, 

And strewn with the wrecks of decay. 



TIME. 

Let builders build temples of stoiie^ 
Bound strongly witli iron and brass ; 

Their years may be thousands^ yet tliey 
Shall into forgetfulness pass. 

The sage may be led by the truth — 
The light only known to the few ; 

But no seer the veil can withdraw 
That hides the dark future from view. 



DEC A r. :23 



P 



E C A Y 



QHE sits like an old withered liag 

By a slirine all broken and gray ; 
The owls give her music at nighty 
And lizards amuse her by day. 

She loves amid ruins to muse^, 
"Where no one disturbs her reti*eat ; 

Tlie wrecks of old altars and thrones 
Lie scattered around at her feet. 

She treads on green carpets of moss. 
Spread on aisles where beauty once trod, 

And stares at grand arches that rung 
With anthems and jn-aises to God." 

The worms have drilled holes in the doors 
Whose hinges are coA'ered with rust; 

And turrets and towers lose their strength,. 
And topple fast down to the dust. 



U DEC A T. 

The bells that Avere noisy are mute. 
And niches where images stood 

Are haunts of the night-bird^, and Avhere 
The bats nurse their ravenous brood. 

Through windows of Gothic design^ 
Hung round with green ivy festoons. 

Through columns the pride of the Past. 
The wild and weird winds whistle tunes. 

She reigns in the palace and cot ; 

Art shrinks from her life-wasting breatli. 
And old Time declares her to be 

The haggard twin-sister of Death. 

She blights the fair rose on the cheek. 
And tames the wild passions of lust ; 

The flesh leayes the bones at her touch, 
And the bones are soon powdered to dust. 

iler eyes are deep-sunken and dim. 
Her hollow cheeks withered and wan ; 

And, wrapped in a mystical cloak, 
She grins with contempt upon man. 

Her march is triumphant and slow. 
With no flaunting banners unfurled : 

Xo mortal can tell where she lives, 
Or how she came into the world. 



DECAY. 

Her laws are not subject to change.. 

iSTor can slie be imrcbased Avith gold 
And, till the last trumpet shall sound. 

Tier storv can never be told. 



^^0 BYGANE DAYS. 



Bygane Days. 



^rrjS sweet to muse on bygane days, 

When, under gentle rule, 
AVitli no care in my thoughtless head, 

I toddled aff to schule. 
The skylark sung his morning lays 

Up o'er the daisied lea, 
And music gushed in meltiug strains 

Frae ilka bush and tree. 

The hawthorn Avi' its blossoms Avhite, 

The gowans at my feet. 
And clover red in fragrant fields 

Sent forth their odors sweet ; 
The wild rose on my pathway bloomed, 

The flower was on the pea, 
And heather-bells and gowden broom 

(xave honey to the bee. 

I've wandered ower the mosses, where 
The moorland lintie sings, 



BTGANE DAYS. 

And butterfies on blossoms fair 

Fold up their painted wings ; 
I've gathered shies and berries Tvikl 

On hills that rung wi' glee. 
And aft to pu' the crimson fruit 

I climbed the rowan tree. 

Tve Avandered ower the battle-fields 

That mighty men have trod, 
Seen sacred spots where marshalled tiH)ops 

Sung praises to their God ; 
I've stood upon the hallowed ground 

Whei-e Bruce his flag unfurled, 
And, by one bohl and daring stroke, 

(iave freedom to tlic world. 

Tliese were the bright and sunny days 

Of life's sweet budding spring, 
Before I felt that manhood's years 

Sad cares and sorrows bring. 
Time, in his weary onward flight. 

Hath wings that never tire ; 
But age, way-worn, sinks slowly down. 

Outliving i^assion's fire. 

() Scotia I Freedom's chosen land. 

Thou still art dear to me ; 
In age, the same as early youth. 

My heart still clings to thee I 



*v\S BYGANE DATS. \ 



Thy rugged glens and fertile dales^ 
Thy mountains wild and grand^ 

Spring up in fancy's pleasant dreams, 
Like some enchanted land. 



GREENWOOD. 20 



Greenwood. 



T 



HE lone stranger enters a Gothic gate. 



And lie mutely wanders around, 
AVliile the sculpturcd tombs in their silence tell 
That he treads upon holy ground. 

lie listens, and hears such a dirge-like sound. 

And he wonders what it can be ; 
For 'tis not the Avail of a broken heart, 

Xor the wail of the surging sea. 

As the sleei^ers hear not the dismal tones, 
Let the storm and the tempest rave ; 

For what reck the dead for the wild, weird vrinds 
That break not the peace of the grave ? 

From their toils and cares here the weary slec]) 
On a couch that is damp and cold ; 

And kindly the green turf hides from the sight 
The mute forms of the young and old. 



30 GREENWOOD. 

Here lies pampered wealth with a tombstone fame 
That once knelt to a golden god; 

And here merit rests from an active life. 
Covered np by the grassy sod. 

AVhen the pnrple stream of the human heart 

Xo longer from its fountain flows, 
In Death's freezing arms, where no troubles lurk. 

Here the rich and the j^ooi' repose. 

Let defiant j)ride bend its haughty head, 
And hear the sermons dead men preach : 

It will humbled be, and deep lessons learn 
Which pulpit lore can never teach. 

\\\ the winding paths and the fragrant groves, 
Where graceful art with nature vies. 

And covered with flowers that in beauty bloom. 
Death coldly sleeps in sweet disguise. 



SIR WALTER SCOTrS MONUMENT. ::i 



Sir\ Waltef^ Scott's jWonument 



IX CENTRAL PARK. 



WHILE to Scott we fondly cling, 
' ' Sweetest bards his praises sing ; 
And the glens and monntains ring 
AVith stirrinof strains of melodv : 



Lot them bend their heads in shame 
Who would blot his glorious name, 
lilazing on the scroll of fame 
In fadeless lustre brilliantly. 

AVith a smile the ju.st may wear, 
'Xeath a crushing load of care 
Such as mortals seldom bear, 

He bore his cross triumphantly. 

God, wlio sends the grateful shower 
To revive the drooping flower, 
(fave him grand creative power — 
The rare gift of divinity. 



SIE WALTER SCOTT'S MONUMENT 

Let no eyes with tears be wet, 
Heave no sighs of deep regret, 
For his death he bravely met — 
The fate of all humanity. 

In his name the virtues blend. 

Honor was his steadfast friend, 

Faith sustained him to the end 

With hopes of immortality. 

Where his ashes now repose. 
Swift the Tweed in beauty flows ; 
And the w^ary pilgrim goes 

To pay his homage silently. 

Glory with a ringing sound 
Spreads his name the world around, 
Who made Scotland classic ground, 
And sung her praise exultingly. 

O'er the mountain and the dell 
He could throw a wizard spell. 
And some thrilling story tell 

In tones of deathless minstrelsy. 

In the world of mighty mind. 
His great name will live enshrined, 
And shall warm admirers find 
In a remote posterity. 



SIR WALTER SCOirS MONUMENT. 

In his statue art can trace 
Features of his manly face, 
AVanting only living grace 

To give the form mortality. 

As his fame will never die. 
May his statue^ firm and high, 
AVhile the storms of time sweep by. 
Brave all their mi^ht defiantlv. 



34 2 HE SPARROWS. 



Jhe ^ 



FARROWSr 



"TirHElSr wintry "winds blow bleak and keen, and snow- 
^^ flakes thickly fall, 
Oil I bear ye not amid tlic storm the starving sparrows' 

call ? 
Tlien, wliile your hearts with kindness swell., give succor 

to the poor, 
And ne'er forget the chirping birds that hop around 3'our 

door. 

They leave their footprints in tlie snow, and perch on leaf- 
less trees, 

AVhere, cold and numb, the little things sit trembling in 
the breeze ; 

They are for some wise purpose sent, and play tlieir hum- 
ble part. 

And seem familiar with the cliords that thrill the human 
heart. 

They nestle in some ivied wall, some crevice in the eaves. 
And rest their little naked feet in nests of withered leaves ; 



TUB SPARROWS, •''> 

Oft hands of charity build cots, where sniisf their featliered 

forms 
Are safe from winter's biting frosts and from the midniglit 

storms. 

They seem to know the friendly door, by i3inching hunger led : 
And who Avould wrong the harmless race that are by mercy 

fed? 
oil I while they crave the simple crumbs that from your tal)le 

fall, 
lA't i)lenty give and warm hearts beat resjionsive to their call. 

Soon nature from a torpid state to life anew Avill spring. 

And vernal winds Avill softly blow, and woodlands sweetly 
ring ; 

I'he sparrows have no gift of song, yet, though their tongues 
be dumb, 

'riiclr little breasts will thmb with joy when l)uds and blos- 
soms come. 

O ye who kneel at Mercy's throne I if mercy you would find. 
Drive not the beggar from your door, and to the birds be 

kind ; 
There is a Providence divine, and God, who rules o'er all. 
Supplies the craving wants of man, and "marks the sparrov/s 

fall/' 



36 MT BELOVED SON. 



My Beloved Son. 



WKITTEX FOR A BEREAVED MOTHER. 



l/TY heart is wrung with bitter grief. 

And hopes are lowly laid ; 
For coldly sleeps my darling boy 
In Greenwood's leafy shade. 

When but an infant on my knee. 

How witchingly he smiled ! 
And with his sweet and rosy face 

The weary hours beguiled. 

Xone like a mother e'er can feel. 

Or can her sorrows share ; 
The burden that weighs down the soul 

Alone she has to bear. 

Methinks I see his curly locks, 

His little manly brow ; 
And, oh ! I'd give a thousand worlds. 

Could I but kiss him now. 



MY BELOVED SOJS^. 37 

My broken heart would leap Avitli joy, 

Xo more be wrung with j)ain. 
Could I but snatch him from the grave. 

And bring him back again. 

But why muse on such idle dreams. 

On things tliat ne'er can be ? 
Yet while I live, departed son, 

My thoughts will be of thee I 

There is a liope to which I cling — 

That, in a reahn of joy, 
We'll meet again to part no more, 

My dear, beloved bov I 



oS LINES TO AN OLD TOOTIL 



Lines to an Old Tooth. 



■JpAITHFUL, bygone masticator ! 

Tlioiigli not a thing of beauty, 
For threescore long and weary years 

Thou hast performed thy duty. 
Reluctantly we j)art, old friend ! 

Hadst thou been rooted stronger, 
I have no doubt but at thy post 

Thou wouldst have lingered longer. 

Mute relic of a grinding race, 

That once shone bright and pearly, 
So firmly set in coral gums 

Beside thy comrades early. 
Thou art a brave part of myself — 

The aider of digestion ; 
In crushing j)iles to shapeless liash, 

None dared thy skill to question. 

The hardest nuts that ever grew 
Tried oft thy stubborn mettle ; 

]^ut, like all other things, they failed 
Thy firmness to unsettle. 



LINES TO AN OLD TOOTIL oi) 

As grim Decay did not succeed 
In piercing tliee with drilling, 
Thou hadst no caverns deep and dark 
• Iiequiring dental filling. 

Thy setting grew so old and void 

Of sympathetic feeling, 
It shrunk and left thee standing bare. 

Like some poor drunkard reeling. 
( ) life-long friend I for ever proud 

Of thy time-honored calling, 
'I'liy kindred organs feel the loss 

Of tliy untimely falling. 

With fever hot the head might reel. 

And hands might he unsteady ; 
Hut, true to thy allotted task. 

Thou wert for ever ready — 
A slave to my capricious Avill, 

A chattel, dumb and senseless. 
That stood so lono: in dan^^er's ranks, 

A hero all defenceless. 

The tongue, which antedates thy birth. 

Thy busy, chatty neighbor, 
It claims to be to some extent 

Partaker of thy labor. 
Amongst all other mortal friends, 

Xone to thy end stood nearer, 



40 LINES TO AN OLD TOO TIL 

And^ trusting in tliy certain aid^ 
It spoke in accents clearer. 

Companion of my wayward life^ 

In travels far and pleasant^ 
Through tropic climes and regions Ijleak. 

Thou wert for ever present. 
Long carried proudly in my mouth, 

Xow resting in my pockety 
Thou hast no heir to fill thy place. 

Thy lone, deserted socket. 

Thy fellows may to Greenwood go. 

With hearse-plumes waving o'er them. 
And in the grave unheeded lie, 

Like millions gone before them ; 
But as for thee, poor lifeless thing. 

Sans tale of shame or glory, 
I'll keep thee amongst fossils rare 

As a inemeiito mori. 



THE CENTENARIAX. 41 



jHE j: 



ENTENARIAN. 



I 



AM dreary and chilly 1 am feeble and old. 
And the life-giving rays of the Avarm snn are cold 
From the keen frosts of age to Avhat land can I flee ? 
AVhat is summer to youth is bleak winter to me. 



For what object I'm spared, for what purpose I live. 
Human wisdom is dumb, and no reason can give; 
I have nothing to love, I have nothing to crave, 
And life's sun Avill soon set in the nii>'lit of the 2:rave. 



G^ 



All my fond-cherished schemes like sweet visions have fled, 
And the friends of my youth and my kindred are dead : 
1 am deaf as a rock that is dashed by the sea. 
And am A\ithered and gnarled like an old sapless tree. 

Xaught can gladden my heart — I am weary of strife. 

And can struggle no more in the battle of life ; 

As my trust is in God, so I fear not my end. 

And I know^ Avhen Death comes, he will come as a friend. 



42 THE CENTENARTAF, 

As I sit by the dooi% lone and desolate iiow^ 
AVliere the winds kindly fan my old time-wrinkled brow^ 
I oft dream of the past with eyes brimming with tears^ 
And a mind that gets lost in the dark mists of years. 

Oh ! I once had a wife — dear companion to me ! 
She was gentle and sweet as a mortal can be ; 
Soon she languished and died, and at one fatal blow 
All my hopes and my peace in her graye were laid low. 

For a season too brief with a child I was blest : 
With her mother she lies, where the world-weary rest ; 
And they sleep in one graye ^neatli a green willow-tree, 
Where the birds sweetly sing, though they sing not for me. 

Age has bleached my hair white, and so dim is my sight 
That clear noon I scarce know from the darkness of night ; 
With a feeble, bent form, a heart crushed with despair. 
The sad burden of life is too heayy to bear. 

The cold creeps up my limbs, and the red stream grows chill ; 
Soon the fountain will freeze, and for eyer be still ; 
Though my body is weak, I am strong in my faith, 
And long to pass through the dark shadows of death. 



10 MY DA UGHTER JOSEPHINE. 43 



To MY Daughtep^ Josephine. 



A PART of my being ! so loving and free, 
^ In joy or in sorrow, my dreams are of tliee ! 
In eaeli kindred feature, in each striking line, 
I see my own image traced nicely in thine. 

When lonely and weary I think of the past. 
And glance at the future with shadows o'ercast,' 
Oh I quick as the moments that rapidly flee 
Revert my sad musings, sweet daughter, to thee ! 

Through all trying changes, be happy as now, 
AVitli no clouds of sorrow o'erhanging thy brow ; 
What rude hand so daring as seek to displace 
The bright sunny gladness that beams on thy face ? 

Be peaceful thy slumbers, unshadowed thy way, 
And time sj)are thy beauty from speedy decay ; 
And, oh ! my fair daughter, so gentle and kind. 
May life's heavy burden rest light on thy mind. 



44 , TO MY DA VGHTER JOSEPHINE. 

Where'er tliou mayst wander^ my liope and my pride. 
May faith be thy comfort, and yirtne thy guide ; 
Thy heart, warm and tender, by care never wrung. 
Unbounded by envy, by mahce unstung. 

Shun snares in hfe's pathway that shine to aUure 
A peace that is holy, a heart that is pure ; 
And when in thy chamber thou bendest the knee, 
Ecmembcr thy father, who fondly loyes thee I 



NIL DESPERANDUM. 45 



J^- P 



ESPERANDUM. 



A YE weary and brave I while ye battle with Care, 

Shut the door of the heart against haggard Despair; 
J^'or the tottering hopes upon whieh you have leaned 
ilay be withered and crushed l)y the merciless fiend. 

Though the clouds gather fast, and the light be withdrawn, 
Soon the darkness Avill fade at the breaking of dawn, 
And hopes that seem dead spring to beauty anew, 
Like the sweet drooping flowers that are nursed by the dew. 

Though the tempest be wild and the drifting bark frail. 

And dark ruin and death seem to ride on the gale, 

Soon the winds spend their strength, and tired Avaves fall 

asleep, 
And the soft zephyrs fan the calm face of the deep. 

On the pathway of life, sad and gloomy appear 
T'he dim shadows of grief and the phantoms of fear ; 
But when bright rays of hope the heart's deep chambers fill, 
Lo I thev vanish like mist from the brow of the hill. 



46 NIL DESPERANDUM. 

There are losses we weep, there are crosses we bear, 
And keen pangs that we feel that no mortal can share ; 
And oft wrongs in the heart are concealed and untold 
AVhich pride hides from the world that is selfish and cold. 



We may bask in fond smiles, we may gaze upon tears, 
But the heart is unseen that is trembling with fears ; 
Who can coldly look on and see loved ones laid low. 
And hopes scattered like leaves when the autumn winds blow ? 

Until tears dim the eye and grief seams the fair brow. 
Love may cherish a hope the tongue dare not avow ; 
In the breast that is true lurks no s]3irit of guile. 
And the brave can lie down and meet death with a smile. 

When Want enters the door, hollow friends may depart, 
And no sunshine of joy cheer the desolate heart. 
Let us bravely toil on ; soon the light may appear 
That will chase from the soul all the darkness of fear. 

Buds and blossoms may fade, and sweet beauty may die, 
While the living may weep or in sorrow may sigh; 
Hope, still beaming with love when the spirit has fled, 
LeaA^es a lingering smile on the face of the dead. 

When the burden of life is too heavy to bear. 

Let Faith live in the heart, and sweet Hope nestle there : 

And the angel of death may soon usher you in 

To a home that is pure and untainted by sin. 



AN ENIGMA. -iT 



/N f 



NIGMA. 



TX the depths of the sea, in the phinets above. 

In the regions of woe, and the mansions of love, 
There's a something that reigns and not subject to hiw — 
Self-existent, a something that God never saw ; 
'Tis eternal like matter, and, knowing no birth. 
It first saw beauty spring from the rugged, dull earth ; 
'Tis unerring in wisdom, untouched by decay. 
Pervading all space with a limitless sway ; 
'Tis a something divine, and the stars of the night 
Are the jewels that shine on its diadem bright ; 
So enshrined in a glory without stain or flaw. 
Canst thou tell, then, mortal ! what God never saw ? 



iS SLA VJSS OF FASHION. 



Slaves of JFashio 



N. 



"ITTHAT tlioiigli their lieads be dull as lead 
^ ' And tliick as granite boulders^ 
Let ribbons flaunt like streamers gay 

x\down tlieir necks and shoulders ; 
And let them go like saints to church. 

Sans brainS;, with graceful carriage ; 
Their smiles, like snares, may catcli tlie fools 

That lauoh at tows of marria'o'e. 

Thus Fashion's slaves wed golden knaves 

That fill their homes with sorrow. 
And solemn vows made fresh to-day 

Are broken on the morrow ; 
They see how loose are priestly knots, 

See hopes like blossoms wither. 
And leaiii too late that love alone 

Can bind fond hearts toirether. 



MAGGIE MITCHELL, 40 



Maggie Mitchell. 



1)0XXIE Maggie, young and fair I 

Little fairy ! jewel rare I 
A'irtue on her spotless throne 
Proudly claims thee as her own, 
And, to form thy sprightly mind, 
All the graces have combined ; 
With thy Avitching charms of art 
Thou canst thrill the human heart, 
Tame the passions strong and wild, 
Nature's sweet and wondrous child ! 

Bonnie Maggie, fair and young. 
Be thou free from Slander's tongue ; 
Free from pain and free from sin. 
Smiles without, and peace within ; 
Yyqq from keen affliction's rod, 
Cheered by hope with faith in God ; 
And, Maggie I beauteous maid, 
May thy laurels never fade. 
Life be as a pleasant dream, 
Gliding down time's rapid stream. 



50 MAGGIE MITCHELL, 

Fortune's cliild^ tliongli wealtli he tliine, 
^ever kneel at Mammon's slirine ; 
AVliere liis slaves are firmly bound, 
Witliered hopes lie strewn around ; 
Men whose brows are seamed by care 
Bend the knee and worship there ; 
If thou wouldst be truly blest. 
Seek the peaceful shades of rest, 
"Where thy calm and cultured mind 
Las tin o' iovs may always find. 

AVho would wish to cling to earth ? 
Death is but a second birth ; 
Loye and beauty ne'er decay 
In the realm of endless day ; 
Through this yale of tears and strife 
Mayst thou lead a happy life, 
Longing for the golden prize 
AVisely hid from mortal eyes ; 
Living with a stainless name, 
Fadeless glory be thine aim. 



LOVE AXn BEVEXGE.— MILES STAXLISII. 51 



Love and JIeyenge. 



TkEEP down in the heart glow the fires of hell. 

Wliere wild passions are wedded to fate. 
And where slighted love j)ants for dark revenge. 

In a spirit of fiendish hate. 
Honor feels the stinsr of a bitter wronsr. 

And, with sonl that is pr6nd and brave. 
It will enre its wounds in the blood of guilt. 

On tlie brink of a yawning grave. 



Miles Standish. 



TX days of ohl, Miles Standish preached 

Amid Avild and barren rocks. 
And Pilgrims grave Avith souls to save 

Heard his teachings orthodox. 
Descendants of the Mayfloicer saints I 

Should you desire a teacher, 
Join Fashion's train in Plymouth Church, 

And hear soul-savin^- Beecher. 



DESTINY 



P 



E S T I N Y 



TT has aye been tlie case, and it will be to the end, 

The tae half o' the warl kensna how the ither fend ; 
(lif folk are unco poor, they're no fashed wi' mnckle care — 
A strong arm and liclit heart can a weary burden bear. 

Contentment is a bliss that the rich may never ken, 
Frae some wee theekit cot hae aft sprung our muckle men ; 
Tho' halls o' pride may ring wi' the sounds o' merry glee. 
The palace ne'er was built that's frae human troubles free. 

There are dreams o' the j)ast that we wadna like to tine, 
That ne'er dee in the heart, and mak' haly auld langsyne ; 
"When eild comes creepin' on, and life's gloaming drawin' near, 
*Tis sweet to cherish thochts that are still to memory dear. 

AVe dinna mind the time Avlien our life was in its dawn, 

AVe drank the milk o' love, fresh frae love's warm fountain 

drawn ; 
But mem'ry minds fu weel lang ere thochts gaed far aglee, 
When briclit the peat fire blazed neth the big pat on the swee. 



DESTINY, 53 

Bairns may liae liackit licels, rin aboot vri' broken taes. 

And hanglity scorn may sneer at the wee tilings' tattered 

claes ; 
]5ut wha can read their fate, wha can tell wliat they may be ? 
Bricht gems are in the yirth, and dull pearls are in the sea. 

AVhat tho' in cloutit duds they gang barefit to the schule, 
And mony cuffs may dree by some petty tyrant's rule ? 
The wee smowts parritch-fed, wi' their rosy cheeks o' health, 
^fay lang afore they dee be great men o' worth and Avealth. 

Sae. wha wad scrimp their farls, wha their higgles wad mak 

sma', 
Or wha wad keep them doun gif they ettle to be braw ? 
AVi' young hearts fu' o' glaiks, and their wee heids fu' o' fun, 
Tliey mak' their baws o' tow, and they fire their bourtree gur. 

Some bairns to callants grow, and the carritch weel they learn, 
(let heels owre heid in love ere a bawbee they can earn ; 
Their hearts are in a lowe, and there's glamour in their een. 
And buckled they maun get as their gutchers auld liae been. 

Mean folks may siccar be, and may liain what they can spare. 
And when eneugli they get, they may pant and grien for mair ; 
l^ut gear begets na peace, and, whaur comforts seem sae rife, 
I [opes fade and hearts are wrung in maist ilka sphere o' life. 

The mind is no' a thing that mere human art can frame, 
It lifts cauld poortith up, and it tak's the gaet to fame ; 



'"^^ DESTINY, 

Ye wlia on creepies sit may yet fill some chair o' state, 
And names that aince were low may be numbered wi' the 
great. 

It is a dowie hame glisks o' sunshine disna cheer, 

Whaur nae kind han' o' love dichts frae sorrow's cheek tlie 

tear ; 
The doure may yarp and girn, honest toil may save frae 

shame. 
It's a' richt to liae faith, but it winna stecli the wame. 

Let creeds and freets abee, and shake aff a' courin fear. 
The gaet that a' maun gang nane but coofs wad ever sjDcer ; 
Tak' reason for your guide, and aye keep awa frae sin, 
And in the end ye may a bricht crown o' sflory win. 



CO.VMOX SEJS^SE. 00 



f' 



OMMON Sense. 



A 8 the guid for sonic end liae aft mucklc to dree. 
It is better^ my frien', to let some things abee ; 
A\'lien a man is laigh doun, Ave snd gie him a heeze. 
And aye keep tlie heart Avarm, lest our feelins sud freeze. 

Let the priests rave and rant aboot ])rumstane and liell, 
(iod has gien ye a mind aye to think for yoursel : 
l>ring. your reason to bear on the straught moral line. 
And ye'll see it is traced by a hand that's divine. 

As our time is but short and our wants are but sma\, 
Sune life's sun will gang doun^ and the mools cover a'; 
l^ut while brichtly it shines, we sud bask in its rays, 
And be couthie and guid to the end o' our days. 

Fools may just as weel try to get honey frae saut 
As to JBn' ane on earth without some bit wee faut ; 
There's nae Avarld that we ken that is free frae a' strife, 
Still, to love and be loved is the object o' life. 



50 COMMON SENSE. 

As the man o' soun' sense liis ain worth never blaws^ 
r^et ns search for the gnid, and be bhn' to wee flaws ; 
But tho' strong ties sud break and auld frien'ships sud part. 
Tear the mask frae the lonn that is hollow at heart. 

Patience tholes wi' a man wi' his hams unco saft ; 
Pity feels for the cliiel that's catwittit and daft ; 
But the whurliwha scamp wd' a tongue o' deceit 
AVha Avad yirtue destroy sud be lashed thro' the street. 

Coofs wi' siller may brag o' their ill-gotten gains, 
And may sneer at the poor wi' pows stecht f u' o' brains : 
But the humble may rise, and the proud hae a fa'. 
Like a snaw-wreath is gowd that may sune melt awa. 

Vice may w^eave a thick veil that may hide for a time 
A' the howfPs whaur her sons learn their lessons o' crime : 
She may prate o' her slaves that to fause pleasures cleave, 
Ikit, like Spunkie, she shines on life's waste to deceive. 

AVithout siller, my frien', it is gey hard to fend, 
]3ut gif toil be yer lot, ye may win in the end ; 
Tho' the gaet may be mirk that thro' life ye maun gae. 
Aye keep up a licht heart while ye speel the stey brae. 

To be buckled is guid gif nae taupie ye wed, 

Sae be sure ye wale ane that's weelfuur'd an Aveel bred ; 

The best blessin' o' earth is a marrow for life 

Of wolim virtue feels proud as a mither and wife. 



COMMON SENSE. L 

And Avliate'er be yer faitli^ and wliate'er be yer creed, 
Xever tnrn a deef lug to the bairnies o' need ; 
Snd a' things thrive weel and nae mishaps l)efa', 
Xe'er forget an auld frien' Avhen liis back's at the vra'. 

Ye may aiblins be rich, or may be nnco poor, 
Ikit ye' canna keep Death king awa frae yer door ; 
He is tnie to liis trust, and he girns at man's gowd, 
AVliile liis caukl lian' o' ice rows liim np in a shroud. 

There's an Eye that ne'er sleeps frae Avhilk nae man can llee, 
And a buik kept aboon that nae mortal can see ; 
There is due credit gien for guid deeds that we do, 
vSo I Ind ye, auld frien', for the present adieu 1 



'"iS THE W02\DEHFir GALLANT. 



The Wonderfu' Pallant. 



"1171' a round bit brnckit face and tousie lieid o' liair^ 
He tliriyes like a thistle wild wi' unco little care ; 
Tho' lie's clad in cloutit duds wi' liackit hands and toes^, 
Sound in health wi' gustfu' air he gorbles np his brose. 

The wee pawkie laddie dreams o' playmates at the schools^ 
0' his ba's and dozin taps and i)ouclies fu' o' bools ; 
Wi' the art that bairns soon learn he gars his pearie birr^ 
And rins like a whittret gleg aliint a ginglin' girr. 

Whaur white clouds in beauty hing owcr fields o' wayin' green^, 
Up whaur skylarks sing their sangs his dragon may be seen ; 
His bit heart wi' rapture loups ; the j)rince that wears a croun 
Never feels a thrill o' joy like this wee ragged loun. 

What kens he o' rackin' pains^ o" fevers, and o' chills ? 
Puir folk ne'er hae shilpit gorbs that live on drugs and pills ; 
On nae feather-bed he rests, but on a laigh shakedown, 
And, wi' pussie by his side, nae ane could sleep mair soun. 

On his rabbits and his doos the callant kindly dauts,"- 
And his mither's love is blin' to a' his wee bit f auts ; 



TUE WONDERFW GALLANT. tO 

And to please lier notions gnid^ and keep awa tlie del], 
He aft reads the buik o' Faith^ and learns tlie carritcli wcel 

8ee liim wi' Iiis sliinty clnb^ and see liim hail his ba\, 
Pecliin hard the lave may rin^ he fairly bangs them a'; 
Ilka thing the birkie tries he bravely bears the gree, 
And, nae matter Avliat he says, he scorns to tell a lee. 

The anld notes his grannie croons he whistles and lie sings : 
Fond o' noise like ither bairns, his bummer round he swings : 
^Vhen schule weans wad do him wrang, and he is no' to blame, 
Ae lick frae his hardy nieve will send them greetin' hame. 

When the snaw is on the moor, and sheep are in the fauld. 
And the frosts lock up the burns, and winds blaw snell and 

cauld, 
Till his rosy checks get blae wi' drift that blins the ee. 
You can see him in tlie feclit wliaur snawba's thickest flee. 

Tho' he scarts the parritch pat, has bauchles on his feet, 
Still, beneath a creeshie brat a noble heart may beat ; 
What the future has in store we wisely dinna ken. 
The boy-hero yet may be a hero amang men. 

We ken only what he is, but no' what he may be. 

What lies hidden in the brain the wisest eanna see ; 

But the time Avill come when worth, and not the chance o' 

birth, 
A strong ruling power shall be and felt throughout the earth. 



JOHN CENTER. 



John Centei\. 



TIE was taiiglit in the Hielaii's his aiii mither tongue. 

And philibegs graced his tengh hurdies when young 
AVhen a callant, he played on the bagpipes f u* weel. 
And Tvad cany to market a pack or a creel. 

John's a pure-blooded Celt;, and is nae human cur. 
And Avill stick to a frien' firm and fast as a burr ; 
When louns heartless wad crush or laws siccar oppress, 
A kind lug he aye lends to the tale o' distress. 

Altho' no unco buirdly, he's wiry in frame. 
And for labor wad pit swankie birkies to shame ; 
Ever free frae a' pride, save the pride o' a man 
Tliat will do for himsel' aye the best that he can. 

Lefpoortith stare at him wi' a purse that is toom. 
And just gie him a desert, he'll sune make it bloom ; 
AVhat cares he tho' his gear may amount na' to much. 
Since maist ilka thino; turns into o-owd at liis touch ? 



JOnX CENT En. 01 

He's aye busy at Avark, and, as sure's ye're alive. 
Like tlie qiieen-bee lie'll banish the drones frae his hive ; 
He can flourish whaur itliers wad perish and rot, 
r>ut for bairn-getting John mieht as Aveel be a stot I 

\\\ an eye that is keen and a liead that is soun'. 
Ye ean scarce fin' his match a' the hale kintra roun' ; 
He is blest wi' strong sense, and the jxawkie odd brick 
( ares as little for priests as he does for auld Xick. 

He still f edits wi' the courts and he f edits wi' the laws. 
And he shows how the land-deeds are covered wi' flaws ; 
l^ut nae matter how cloudy John's claims may appear. 
He can read thro' the darkness his ain title clear. 

The great chieftain o' squatters is law-read and wise. 
And frae marshes o' mud he's made beauty arise ; 
Were the place only fit for puir mortals to dwell, 
lie wad strongly dispute the deil's title to hell ! 

Like the cock on the middin that craws unco crouse, 
Sac auld-farrant and couthie he rules his ain house ; 
Owre the nappy Avi friens he is dead-sweer to part, 
And a bonnie bit lass can dance aff wi' his heart. 

As time dims the bricht ee and seams deep the brent brow. 
So the winter o' age will soon whiten the pow ; 
AVi' a conscience that's clear and an air o' content, 
(^h I may ilk ane look back at a lifetime wed spent. 



6*^ THE HAPPY PAIR. 



The fiAPPY Paip\. 



rpHEKE'S a coiitliie bit body^ a cantie auld cock^ 

AVlia is kent by the odd name o' Bob Gowenlock ; 
Time lias mown a' tlie liair frae tlie tap o' his eroiin, 
Yet still left liim^ tho' threescore an' twa^ unco soun. 

Idle clashes an' clavers he ne'er minds ava. 
But has aye got a kind word to say aboot a' ; 
To the w^e fauts o' ithers this guid man is blind ^ 
And a heart that is warmer wad hard be to find. 

Blest wi' plenty, auld Bob is a frien' to the poor, 
And the beggar in want finds relief at his door ; 
Wi' the best o' mankind there is aye some bit flaw, 
So, if he is nae perfect, his failings are sma'. 

The carl likes his drap toddy, a pinch o' guid snuff. 
And whiles wi' a cuttie pipe takes a bit puff ; 
When cronies aboot him in festive mirth stand, 
lie will sing the auld sangs o' his ain native land. 



TEE HAPPY PAIR. OJ 

Jle is blest Avi' a leal and a kiud-licartcd Avifo, 
Wha has shared a' his cares thro' the maist o' his life : 
Oh I the sweet, hinnied Avords that fa' saft frae her tongue 
Cast around him love's sunshine as when they were young. 

The guid Bulk frae whase pages the blind seek for licht 
The auld pair read a portion o't mornin' and nicht ; 
As they feel that life's blessings a' come frae above. 
So their liame is the hame o' contentment and love. 

A' Bob's riches were gained by the sweat o' his brow. 
And when toiling for age he was happy as now ; 
Aye content wi' the sphere Avhere his lot was lang cast, 
lie delights wi' his friens yet to crack o' the past. 

Things are nevLi .-at- puiv that there's nau room to mend. 
And the frugal will aye fin' oot some way to fend ; 
In the springtime provide for the autumn o' life, 
And wale weel aboon a' thinirs a trustv, oruid-wife. 



(;4 JAMIE MCGINN. 



Jamie McGinn, 
a comical undertaker of sax fraxcisco. 



TTERE sleeps my old friend^ Irisli Jamie McGinn, 
Who gave up tlie gliost with a comical grin ; 
lie thought all the rogues would be left in the lurch 
Who put not their faith in the old Mother Church ; 
Of gin he was fond, and could relish a feast, 
And count his round beads with the grace of a priest. 
For long years before Jamie's own spirit fled, 
He laughed with the living, and buried the dead ; 
At the half-way house kno^\Ti as Purgatory, 
He was rubbed and scrubbed and made fit for glory ; 
Yea, eyen the stain of original sin 
AVas w^ashed from the hide of saint Jamie McGinn. 



LINES.— AFFINITY AND DIVINITY. f:5 



Lin 



ES 



WIUTTEX THE XIGIIT BEFORE I LEFT CALTFOEXJA, 
OCTOBER 17, 18T0. 

T WILL remember till life's close 
A few friends warm and kind ; 
But little else I have to leave 
Save buried hopes beliind. 



Lines 

avkittex the morxixg of eeavix(; califoilma. 

T?AIiEWELL, my friends I a long farewell. 

To each and all a fond adieu I 
AVithin my breast a grateful heart 

Through life shall ne'er turn cold to you. 



Affinity and Divinity. 

4 S chemists never doubt the truth 

Of phj'sical affinity, 

So goodness magnet-like draws man 

The nearer to Divinity, 
9 



S O i^ G S. 



J Feel J'm Growing Auld, Gude-wife. 



I 



FEEL I'm growing auld, gudc-wife — 
I feel I'm gi'owing auld ; 
]\[y steps arc frail, my eon are bleared. 

My pow is unco bauld. 
I've seen the snaws o' fourscore years 

O'er hill and meadow fa'. 
And. liinnie I were it no for you, 

I'd gladly slip awa'. 

I feel I'm growing auld, gude-wife — 

I feel I'm growing auld ; 
Frae youth to age I've keei)it warm 

The love that ne'er turned cauld. 
I canna bear the dreary thocht 

That we maun sindered be ; 
There's naething binds my poor auld heart 

To earth, gude-wife, but thee. 

I feel I'm growing auld, gude-wife — 
I feel I'm growing auld ; 



:0 I FEEL I'M GROWING AVLD, GVDE-WIIE. 

Life seems to me a wintry waste^ 

Tlie very sun feels cauld. 
Of worldly friens ye've been to me 

Amang tliem a' the best ; 
Now I'll lay down my weary bead, 

Gude-wife^ and be at rest. 



2AK' BACK lUE BING, BEAR JAMIE. U 



Tak' Back the Ring, Deae^ Jamie. 



rpAK' back the ring, dear Jamie, 

The ring ye gae to me, 
An' a' the tows ye made yestreen 

Beneath the hirken-tree. 
But gie me hack my heart again, 

It's a' I hae to gie ; 
Sin' ye'll no wait a fittin' time, 

Ye canna marry me. 

I promised to my daddie. 

Afore he shpp'd awa, 
I ne'er wad leave my minnie, 

AVhate'er sud her befa' 
I'll faithfu' keep my promise, 

For a' that ye can gie : 
Sae, Jamie, gif ye winna wait. 

Ye ne'er can marry me. 

I canna leave my minnie. 
She's been sae kind to me 



TAK' BACK THE BI^G, DEAR JAMIE. 

Siir e'er I was a bairnie. 

A wee tiling on her knee. 
Xae mair slie'll cairn my gOT\'clen liair, 

Xoi busk me snod an^ braw ; 
She's auld an' frail^ her een are dim. 

An' sune T\-ill close on a'. 

I maunna leave my minnie. 

Her journey is na lang ; 
Iler heid is bendin' to the niools, 

AVhere it maun shortly gang. 
Were I an heiress o' a cro^vn^ 

I\l a' its honors tine. 
To watch her steps in helpless age. 

As she in vouth watched mine. 



TUE SXAW LIES DEEP ON HILL AND PLAIN. 



The Snaw Lies Deep on Hill and Plain. 



10 



npiIE snaw lies deep on liill and plain^ 
-^ Snell fa' the pelting sleet and rain ; 
Sure winter has come back again, 

Wi' niclits baitli lang and wearie ; 
The Sun's withdrawn his cheering beams, 
The ice has fettered living streams, 
And a' the face o' Xature seems 

A desert cauld and drearie 0. 

O'er earth a spotless robe is flung, 

Wi' white festoons the groves are hung, 

Whaur sylvan minstrels lately sung 

Their touching lays sae cheerie ; 
There's frost-work on the window-pane. 
And flocks for green fields bleat in vain ; 
Sure winter has come back again, ' 

And winds blaw wild and eerie 0. 

But what care I for whistling winds. 
Or drifting snaw that fairly blinds ? 
Gie me the joys that true love finds 
Beside my trusting dearie 0. 



74 THE SNA W LIES DEEP ON HILL AND PLAIN. 

Sae fondly still to me slie clings. 
And sunshine o'er life's pathway flings, 
Wi' music sweet our cottage rings. 

That mak's our liame sae cheerie 0. 



KATE 0' GLENROWAN. 



Kate o' Glenrowan. 



4 T the auld parish kirk sin' I was a callant, 

Fair lassies I've seen that were winsome and Ijraw : 
But for beauty o' grace and a bonnie sweet face, 
Tlie charmin' young Kate is the flower o' them a\ 

She's fair as tlie Avhite-rose, and pure as the snow-flakes; 

Her tender heart beats sae confidin' and true, 
And were Kate only mine, with a transport divine 

rd bask in the light o' her twa een o' blue. 

l^ut, oh I what gars me dream o' Kate, the rich heirosL-;, 
(3r cherish a hope that is foolish and vain ? 

While I love her blindly, she smiles on me kindly, 
And not with proud looks of a haughty disdain. 

As her daddie's a laird, she rides in her carriage, 

And flunkies braw-drest on tlieir young mistress wait ; 

The auld folks caress her, the beggars a' bless her, 
And ilk ane is loud in the praises o' Kate. 



TG KATE 0' GLENROWAN. 

Oil I were Kate only j)nir, witliout lands or siller. 
To 02:)en her heart love wad sune find a key ; 

But had I ne'er met her, or could I forget her, 
I'd then be as blest as a bodie can be. 

Cher hoj)es that are crushed I feel dull and dowie. 
And nae ane can tell what I silently dree ; 

The days are sae drearie, the nichts lang and wearie. 
There's nae thing noo left to bring comfort to me. 



MT MABY 0. 



My NLary p. 



T WAD na gie my Mary yet 

For a' the lassies I hae seen ; 
Upon her face twa roses bloom, 

And love shines in her bonnie een. 
She sings as sweet as ony bird — 

Like some wee witching fairy ; 
She's crept into this heart o' mine, 

And there she reigns my Mary 0. 

Blest wi' a heart that's pure and true. 

And wi' a form that's grace itsel'. 
Does mortal breathe wha could na feel 

The charming power o' sic a spell ? 
Queen o' my love ! I vow to thee 

That while on earth I tarry 0, 
No one shall share this heart o' mine 

Wi' my sweet, winsome Mary 0. 



^^ CLABA. 



Clara. 



O WEET as a lyre by angel strung 

^ Flows gushing music from lier tongue ; 

And in lier warm^ confiding heart 

Love plays its true and gentle part. 

In her all human yirtues blend 

That gild life's pathway to the end ; 

With witching grace she smiles on all, 

And lends an ear to Pity's call. 

Seam not her brow^ plowman Care I 
Such beauty sweet in mercy spare ; 
Through weary life, so sad and brief, 
Wring not her heart, weeping Grief I 
The smiles upon her bonnie face. 
And all her charms of winning grace. 
Stamp Clara such a peerless prize 
Might lure an angel from the skies. 



ANNIE LEE, 



Annie L 



EE. 



H 



OW sweet 'tis to think o' laiig syne, Annie Lee ! 
When youth, grace, and beauty were thine, Annie Led 
When heart beat against heart 

Whaur nae ane could see, 
I thocht thee an angel 
0' bliss, Annie Lee ! 



Ere Nature had taught us to lo'e, Annie Lee I 
'Mang clover-fields wet wi' the dew, Annie Lee I 
We'd list to the skylark 

That sprang frae the lee ; 
But sweeter by far were 
Thy songs, Annie Lee ! 

Down the glen we aft took a turn, Annie Lee I 
An' laved our wee feet in the burn, Annie Lee I 
I looked at thy shadow, 

An' then upon thee. 

An' felt as if spell-bound 

To love, Annie Lee ! 



^<0 ANNIE LEE. 

Wi' bonnie ricli ringlets o' liair^ Annie Lee ! 
I never sae ane look sae fair, Annie Lee I 
An' thy twa een o' bine, 
That sparkled wi' glee, 
Never shone to deceive 
My heart, Annie Lee ! 

4 1 tliocht earth a heaven o' bliss, Annie Lee ! 
When young courage stole the first kiss, Annie Lee I 
The flowers were nae fairer 

That bloom on the lea, 

The snawdraps nae purer 

Than thou, Annie Lee ! 

The pure heart that's free frae a' sin, Annie Lee ! 
In the end is aye sure to win, Annie Lee ! 
So, we ne'er dreamt o' wrang ; 
Oh ! wha wad wrang thee ? 
Sweet mate o' my boyhood. 
My dear Annie Lee ! 

Aft love gets what gold canna buy, Annie Lee I 
Au' gif ony doot, let them try, Annie Lee ! 
They will find to their grief 

That a' their hopes dee. 
And naething but love lives 
In bliss, Annie Lee ! 

It is said that true love is blind, Annie Lee ! 
An' seldom a leal heart can find, Annie Lee ! 



ANNIE LEE. 

ikit the flame wauetli not 
First kindled by thee ; 

'Tis fanned by thy love still. 
My sweet Annie Lee I 



11 



^"^'-^ LITTLE NELLY GORDON, 



Little Nelly Gordon, 



a AYEET little Xelly Gordon, 
So witching and so airy, 
Thy step is like the gentle fawn, 
Or some wee mountain fairy. 

Young rosebud of Life's joyous Spring, 
Where pride and hope are centred, 

Thine eyes are loye, thy heart a shrine 
Where sin has never entered. 

Sweet little JSTelly Gordon I 
Fair bud that soon will blossom. 

May sorrow never plant her thorns 
Within thy tender bosom. 

If on this orb, sweet, beauteous thing. 
Thou art designed to tarry, 

Seek till thou find the jewel, worth, 
And not till then e'er marry. 



MY BOXXIE Ty'EE LIZZIE. 



M.Y Bonnie Wee Lizzie. 



11 TY bonnie wee Lizzie^ 
^ So gentle and fair^ 
There's love in thy ghmces. 

And grace in thine air. 
My heart, like the ivy 

That twines round the tree, 
Clings fondly with rapture, 

My Lizzie, to thee. 

Sweet flower of rare beauty. 

My hope and my pride I 
I never feel happy 

Away from thy side. 
May no clouds of sorrow 

E'er shade thy young brow, 
Xor tears bleach the roses 

That sweetly bloom now. 

Thine eyes beam so brightly 
And softly on me. 



<S4 3ir BONNIE WEE LIZZIE. 

Xo wonder that nightly 
My dreams are of thee. 

I'll go to the altar 

With joy and with priJe, 

And there, my sweet Lizzie, 
Confess thee mv bride. 



J/r SWEET LITTLE HINmE 



JA.Y Sweet Little Hinnie. 



"ITY sweet little Hinnio, 

My bonnie wee dool 

What sets me a-dreaming 

An' thinking o' you ? 
The sly, pawkie archer 

Has wounded my heart. 
And none but you, Mary, 

Can pluck out the dart." 



*' (J if that be sae, Willy, 

I'll pluck out the dart. 
And I'll gie you mysel' 

To heal your bit heart. 
I'll be your leal wifie 

E'en sud I repent ; 
So aft to my minnie, 

And spier her consent." 

" I'll aff, my wee dantec — 
Ae kiss ere I gang; 



8(i 31 Y SWEET LITTLE IIINNIE, 



The lift it is starry, 
The road is na lang. 



I'll sune be back, lassie, 
Loye's wings quickly flee ; 

Then, then shall I never 
Part, Mary, frae thee." 



HIE VALLEY OF WYOMING, 



The Valley of Wyoming. 



OHOULD you resolve in happy moo.l 

Awhile to go a-roaming, 
Rest not until your eyes behold 

The Valley of Wyoming. 
Although with evening dew there falls 

• Xo life-sustaining manna, 
There Plenty spreads her ample stores 
Along the Susquehanna 

The fields send forth their golden grain 

In no mean, stinted measure, 
And Earth to toil yields freely up 

Her suliterranean treasure. 
Let poets sing the praises of 

The dashing Lackawanna ; 
But give to me that noble stream, 

The charming Susquehanna, 

Its fertile banks are sweetly graced 
By many a cot and palace. 



8vS THE VALLEY OF WYOMING 

And liills of green look proudly down 
Upon the peaceful valleys. 

There blooms tlie rosebud of my heart. 
The young and peerless Anna ; 

No purer is thy crystal stream^ 
placid Susquehanna! 



FIRST LO VE. SO 



First Love. 



T^IIO" the false world may liide^ and sly art may conceal. 

There is no love so i^nre as the first love we feel ; 
While we try to supplant it or tear it apart^ 
Like a sweety clasping A'ine it clings close to the heart. 

On the ruins of some broken heart it may lean, 
And grow like Avild weeds in the ocean unseen ; 
AVhile roses of beauty may languish and fade. 
Like some tender exotic that's kept in the shade. 

The sweet smiles of a face and bright, love-speaking eyes 
For a season the passion may partly disguise ; 
And the heart may be sad while the tongue may be still. 
Yet it lives warmly nursed, let us do what we will. 

To remembrance it clings, and it clings to the soul, 

And to banish it thence baffles human control ; 

It is true to its object of love and of worth. 

As the mariner's needle that points to the north. 
12 



00 FIRST LOVE. 

Just as well strive to flee from the presence of God 
As to pluck out tlie passion, at home or abroad; 
It is nourished with sighs^ it is watered with tears^ 
And how bitter and dark is the fruit that it bears I 

Like some flower of rare beauty whose delicate form 
Is too fragile to brave the rude blasts of life's storm ; 
Oh I for pity's sake spare it from slander's foul breath. 
Till its beatings are hushed in the stillness of death. 



MARY ANm 91 



/Aary Ann, 
of hamiltox, o^s^tario. 



T'VE wandered ower tliis weary warld. 

And seen some beauties rare ; 
But till I met sweet Mary Ann, 
I ne'er saw ane sae fair. 

Her wee bit heart is love itsel, 

And lier twa witeliin' een 
Xeed not tlie music o' lier tongue 

To tell me what they mean. 

Xae beauty that I ever saw 

Can match her winsome face ; 
And, cast in nature's fairest mould, 

Her form is perfect grace- 
So, love, bring all your charming queens 

That sweetly smile on man ; 
There's ane I ken will beat them a' — 

^ly bonnie Mary Ann. 



LVC7 LEE. 



Lucy Lee. 



QHE'S bii(Jding in lier early teens.. 
^ Sae young and sweetly fair ; 
What hand wad in her bosom plant 

The thorns o' grief an' care ? 
The mother on her bairnie doats 

That smiles iij)on her knee ; 
But wi' a warmer gush o' joy 

My heart lo'es Lucy Lee. 

There's love in a' her witching smiles. 

There's rapture in her een ; 
I need no aid o' mystic lore 

To tell me what they mean. 
The warld and a' that in it blooms 

"Wad be a waste to me. 
Did frosts untimely nip the flower. 

My wdnsome Lucy Lee. 



HAVE YOU FELT AT YOUR HEARl ? 03 

9 



Wave You Felt at Youi\ Heart 



H 



AVE you felt at your heart 
The strong tuggings of sin, 
AVhen the flame of pure love 

AVas first kindled witliin ? 
Have you sworn to be true, 

In soft Avhispers sincere, 
AVhen heart beat against heart. 
And Avlien no one is near ? 

Have you knelt to blue eyes 

As you would at a shrine, 
Witliout feeling the wish 

That the fair one was thine ? 
Have you tasted the sweets 

Of a maiden's first kiss, 
"W'ithout thinking you breathed 

In a region of bliss ? 

If you have, then away 

With your cold heart of stone. 



04 ITAVB YOU FELT AT YOUB HEART? 

And in som? desert dwell, 

Like a hermit, alone. 
Let me bask in the smiles 

Of the fond one I love. 
Till my soul, tired of earth. 

Seeks a blest home aboye. 



now I LOVE TO DBEAM 0' IEEE, MARY! 



flow J Love to Dream o' Thee, Mary 



ITTHEJf Nature tak's her winter nap 
^ ' In lier caiild white sheets o' snaw. 
Or when the wild, weird whistlin' winds 

Eoiin' the auld clay biggin blaw. 
An' meltin' rains an roarin' floods 

A' the strong ice-fetters thaw. 
How I love to dream o' thee, Mary ! 

How I love to dream o' thee ! 

AVhen tender shoots an' burstin' buds 

On the orchard trees are hung; 
When wee birds build their cosie nests, 

Whaur the auld anes feed their young, 
An' hills an' valleys ring wi' joy. 

As they aft before hae rung. 
How I love to dream o' thee, Mary ! 

How I love to dream o' thee*! 

When the thorn is white wi' blossoms, 
An' the bloom is on the pea ; 



OG HOW I LOVE TO DREAM 0' THEE, MARY! 

When bonnie golden buttercups 
An' tlie gowans gem the lee, 

An' kindred tribes in sylvan groves 
Sing on ilka busli an' tree, 

How I love to dream o' thee, Mary I 
How I love to dream o' thee I 

When bleatin' hills an' vocal glens 

Lie bathed in glittering sheen, 
Ere gloamin' casts a dusky veil 

O'er the fields o' wavin' green, 
Or lovers meet to pledge their vows 

At the trystin' time o' e'en. 
How I love to dream o' thee, Mary I 

How I love to dream o' thee I 

When the flowers a' droop an' wither. 

Despite the dews that gently fa' ; 
When the yellow hairsts are gathered in, 

An' the swallows flee awa' ; 
When the nichts are lang an' dreary, 

An' a gloom hangs over a'. 
How I love to dream o' thee, Mary I 

How I love to dream o' thee I 



LOWLAND MART. DT 



Lowland Mart. 



nnHE rosy rays of tlie morning liglit 

In their downward course may tarry 
And linger to gild tlie mountain-tops^ 

Ere I cease to love my Mary. 
The rolling spheres may be lost in nighty 

The sun in his course may vary ; 
But my constant heart will aye beat true 

To my own dear Lowland Mary. 

O'er my head the clouds of care may liang^ 

And my cherished hopes miscarry ; 
But no changes that the w^orld may bring 

Can e'er change my love for Mary ; 
Trees may not bloom^ and birds may not sing^ 

And the speed of time may yary ; 
But warmly throned in this loving heart 

Shall reign my ow^n Lowland Mary. 



13 



98 HO W THE HEABT TO THE PAST WT BAP TUBE CLINGS! 



How THE Heart to the Past wr Rapture 

Clings ! 



TJOW tlie heart to the Past wi' rapture clings 
AVhen the spirit Memory bears nae stings, 
But o'er it a glorious halo flings 

That makes it seem sae cheerie ! 
There's a bonnie wee spot ayont the sea 
That's sweeter than a' ither spots to me, 
Where the mornin' o' life I spent sae free 

^Mang scenes that never wearie. 

There the Spring first comes wi' its leaves and buds ; 
There the cuckoo is heard in the circlin' wuds ; 
An' far up in the lift amang the cJuds 

The laverock sings sae cheerie. 
The swallow its wings in the burnie dips ; 
The bee frae the thistle its honey sips ; 
Where sae fondly first I pried the lips 

0' Jean, my bonnie dearie. 



HO W TEE HEART TO THE PASl WT RAPTURE CLINGS! 99 

Oh I my heart yet clings^ Craigieburn^ to thee ! 
AVhere the langest day was aye short to me ; 
All' where aften I still in fancy flee 

To scenes that never wearie. 
I dream o' the trees wi' their plumes o' green^ 
An' I gaze on the flowers wi' ravished een^ 
Where first I met wi' my bonnie Jean, 

My early, only dearie. 



100 JESSIE PATER SON. 



Jessie Paterson, 



"TTTHERE green liills gently rise^ and tlie Tweed is but 

a burn^ 
In pleasing dreams of fancy my footsteps oft return ; 
But sic happy days again I never mair may see ; 
Oh ! then Jessie Paterson was a' the world to me. 



Eed rowans an' blae-berries in simmer we wad pu", 

An' wi' liclit hearts, free o' care, we promised to be true ; 

But how little do we ken what we're born to dree and 

tine ? 
Then a' her hopes an' prospects were bundled up wi' 

mine. 

Oh ! Blink-Bonny's buddin' rose was fairest o' the fair, 
An' gracefully in ringlets hung down her gowden hair ; 
AVe never tliocht o' changes the future had in store. 
Or the pangs that it wad bring we dreamt-na o' before. 

When her wee cozie biggin, weel theekit ower wi' straw, 
Wi' Winter's robe was ha23pit, afore March brocht a thaw; 



JESSIE PATEBSaJSr. 101 

Or when floAvers wad bud in Spring, and braird was on 

the lea, 
Oh I then Jessie Paterson was a' the world to me. 

When the snn in mornin' mist was blinkin' redly throngh, 
An' the gowan an' the broom were bricht wi' pearly dew, 
We've listened to the lark in some fleecy-flittin' clond, 
Where sweet the little warbler snng matin lays aloud. 

In tlie merry harvest-time, when reapers cam' to shear, 
We thocht-na m our daflin' our partin' was so near ; 
I think I see her now, fu' o' rosy, rustic glee ; 
Oh I tlien Jessie Paterson was a' the world to me. 

But wliy should I be dowie ? Thae days are gane an' past, 
An' I hae learned the lesson that pleasures canna last ; 
Her minnie was-na pleased, an' anger steek'd the door ; 
The truth then stood revealed that I was nnco 2:)oor. 

Bonnie Jessie Paterson ! sae winsome an' sae kind. 
Keep a wee neuk in yonr heart for honest Tam the hind ; 
Though Willie ye hae wed, an' crossed the heavin' sea. 
My blessin' on ye baith — lang happy may ye be I 



102 OH! MY FAIR, MY DARLIIsG MAGGIE. 



pn ! My Faii\. My Darling Maggie. 



AH ! my fair^ my darling Maggie, 

Angel, whom I love so dearly ; 

Language fails to speak the feeling 

. Of my heart, that beats sincerely. 

Cliorits — Let ns live to love each other. 

Bound by ties that none can sever ; 
Now, my fair, my darling Maggie, 
Say thou wilt be mine for ever. 

Love from life's warm fountain gushes ; 

Kisses tell what ne'er was spoken; 
Vows are but poor empty pledges. 

Warmly made and coldly broken. 
Chorus — Let us live to love each other, etc. 

Gliding down life's rapid river, 

We can hear the wild birds singing ; 
They may teach us to be happy — 
Fondly to their spring mates clinging. 
Chorus — Let us live to love each other, etc. 



BONNIE TAN NT DEAN. 103 



Bonnie Fanny Dean. 



TX rambling tlirougli tliis weary warld, 

I've flowers o' beauty seen ; 
But nane were lialf sae fair to me 
As bonnie Fanny Dean. 

I've never seen sic twa blue een, 

Xor sic a sweet wee mou ; 
And, oh ! her heart is soft and pure 

As drops o' morning dew. 

The glossy vine wi' grace may twine 

In nature's wilds amang ; 
More gracefu' still ower Fanny's brow 

Her gowden tresses hang. 

I've kent her sin' she was a bairn^ 

A wee bit gentle thing ; 
But never thocht her budding charms 

A spell wad ower me fling. 



104 BONNIE FANNY BEAN 

I'll neyer break tlie sacred yow^ 
The promise made yestreen ; 

Come weal or woe^ I'll wedded be 
To bonnie Fanny Dean. 



EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS. 



Sandy JVLien, 

ITIEX Ijy name and mean by nature, 

^lean in looks and mean in stature, 
Mean in line and every feature, 
Lived this mean and worthless creature. 



On the Tombstone of a Knave. 

A S from death there is no one exempt, 

Here lie the remains of a knave. 
For whose name, just to show their contempt 
Skunks come here and water his grave. 
14 



106 EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS. 



"PAUSE^ reader, for a moment pause, 

And shed one silent tear ; 
For, underneath this lonely mound, 
An honest man sleeps here. 



pLLIS THE ^AKEI\ 

TJEEE lies the sot, Ellis the baker, 

"Who, when living, was selfish and cold ; 
For some unaccountable reason, 

Mercy sjDared him until he was old. 



The Prunkard and Cheat. 

TTERE lies an impostor, a drunkard and cheat, 

Whom the rogues called the prince of guid fellows ; 
He tried to cheat Death, but he did not succeed, 
Yet succeeded in cheatino- the a'allows. 



EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS. lOT 



Jhe j^ 



YPOCRITE. 



rTHIS man tried his best to serve God and the Devil, 

But he loved most of all his hot toddy ; 
A wild, fevered brain made a Avreck of his soul, 
And the whiskv a hell of his bodv. 



Lying Tommy. 

TF truth he speaks, 'tis by mistake. 
And none but fools believe him ; 
When old grim Death chokes Tommy's breath, 
The Devil will receive him. 



Dram-Drinking John. 

TJE drank so much brandy while living 

That the chemists all said he would keep 
Till the angel shall blow the last trump. 
When amazed he will start from his sleep. 



108 EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS, 



On the Death of a Friend. 

4 ]^D couldst thoii wot, cruel Death I 
^ Withlielcl the fatal blow 
That so iintimely laid my friend 
And dear companion low ? 



On the Death of Robert Gowanlock, 

OF SA:N' FKAIS^CISCO. 

O thou art gone^, good old man ! 
^ My long-tried friend and brother ! 
How Tain the search would be on earth 
To find just such another I 



f 



PIGRAM. 



TTIS heart is as rotten as muck. 

And black as the color of coal 
Inquiry dumbfounded was struck 
In findino* no trace of a soul. 



EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS. 109 



Elder Knapp, the Sensational Preachei\. 

T70R Gocl's sake and your own sake, Knapp^ 

Don't preach such silly twaddle, 
But leave this fair Pacific coast, 
. And to the East skedaddle ! 



The ]^uling f^AssiON. 

TJE raved and he swore, and he hobbled about. 

To brandy a slave, and a martyr to gout ; 
Tliougli not bent witli years, he was long sjiared to see 
His finger-joints gnarled like the trunk of a tree ; 
While tortured with pangs from his liead to his toes. 
The blossoms of rum flourished red on his nose ; 
Like one that was bent in the search of more pain. 
He freely would drink AVidow Clicquot champagne ; 
He died as he lived, and, while gasping for breath. 
His last grog was quaffed in the Valley of Death. 



110 EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS. 



David Mitchell. 

rriHERE'S Mitchell, he treasures up learning 

But cares not for hoarding up pelf ; 
He has but one foe in the world, 

And, strange to say, that is himself. 
Some say that he likes pretty girls. 

And hint that he's fond of his toddy ; 
It may be all true, but I swear 

His heart is too big for his body. 



Willy, the /tNTiquARiAN Oddity. 

"MADE up of strange and outre parts, 

Oh I queer, incongruous mixture, 
You crept into my heart langsjaie, 

And there remained a fixture. 
There's something about thee, old friend I 

So lively and so active, 
That makes thy humor and thy wit 

So sparkling and attractive. 



EPITAPHS AND EPIGRAMS. Ill 



f 



PIGRAM. 



TITHILE B'eii the very best may be 

A little indiscreet, 
There's nothing in the wrangler, but 
The <ias of self-conceit. 



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